


Milk and Honey

by jencsi



Category: The Boys (TV 2019)
Genre: F/M, Homelander - Freeform, Madelyn Stillwell - Freeform, My first fic, The Boys TV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 04:06:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20650931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jencsi/pseuds/jencsi
Summary: Homelander notices everything about Madelyn.





	Milk and Honey

She bit her lip. He could not remember the first time she did it in front of him, but he made sure to recall each and every time afterwards. It was a simple yet intoxicating mannerism. At first, she reserved it only for business, during her meetings with politicians, senators, higher ups, after her sales pitch, when they were stuck in moments of indecision. She would pause, watching their faces for ticks, deciding whether or not she would have to employ blackmail to get them to listen to her. It was like a lure, a spider waiting for the fly to make the fatal mistake of hovering too close to her web. In an instant, she had them at her mercy. A tilt of her head, the delicate movement of her lip, teeth sinking into it, not hard, just enough to convey the message she wanted; viciousness disguised as innocence. They fell for it every time, the fools. 

But not him. He watched her make that signature motion enough times now to see right through it. He resisted the urge to scream and yell a warning to these people, it’s a trap. Soon she started using it to get him to do her bidding. Go to this event, smile for this photo, talk to the press, give this speech, almost as if she were begging, pretty please, but she was not one to beg, ever. She toed the line just barely, enough to get him to listen, to obey, to smile and nod robotically, without having to lose her powerful reputation. She was sickly sweet, filled with sugary words coating her ulterior motives. He drank it all up. 

On the rare occasions when she was being truly sincere in her affections, she would bite her lip. When they were alone together in her office, discussing the business of the day, deciding what to eat, her eyes scanning down the menu of some take out place, she bit her lip, thinking, concocting, enticing him to linger with her long after the rest of Vought was gone. He tried not to stare too long or watch when she did this, but he could not help himself. She knew this about him and likely continued with the motion just to torture him. This was her world, her game, and he was a mere pawn. In every instance, the tender bite to her lip was enough to sustain him, to keep him coming back to her when he knew it wasn’t right. She was a walking metaphor for how cruel the world could be, it lured you in with promises of safety and comfort but the second you stepped away from its protections, went off on your own reserve, you were banished, left outside in the cold. The only way he could continue to be alone with her, to have her in his sight was if he went along with these charades. Despite all the wrong she stood for, one single tilt of her head and biting of her lip made him forget all of that, his true weakness; caring for her when he knows he shouldn’t. She could ignore him for days and he would still come running back when she asked him to. She beckoned, murmuring softly “Do it for me” and he would, until death claimed his soul and pulled him straight to hell, a part of him hoping to see her there.


End file.
